


Courting Frogs: Gladiolus Amicitia's Misadventures in Modern Dating

by Nixxi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad First Dates, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Jealousy, Kink Shaming, M/M, Mild Kink, Minor Violence, Objectification, Pining, Sexual Content, Social Media, Surprise Kissing, Taxidermy, Texting, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixxi/pseuds/Nixxi
Summary: “Where are you finding these people, anyway?” Ignis asks.Gladio scratches his head. “InsomniaMatch.”“Well, that explains everything,” Ignis says. “When you scrape the bottom of the barrel, you get the dregs."Gladio goes on a series of bad dates. Ignis has some opinions about them.Or, six times Gladio struck out with online dating, and one time he found the right person.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Original Character(s)
Comments: 252
Kudos: 232





	1. The Technicolour Yawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I really just wanted to send Gladio on some terrible, no-good, very bad dates while poor Ignis pines on the sidelines. Be forewarned that there will be some gross-out stuff in here. Tags will be updated with each new chapter. As usual, huge thanks to AtropaAzraelle for being my beta.
> 
> Kudos and comments are ♡. Stay safe out there!

The date starts with a message from a girl on InsomniaMatch. Gladio likes her profile picture—she’s cute and blonde, and the angle of the shot gives him a nice view of her cleavage. They meet at a bar around the corner from Gladio’s apartment. She’s even hotter in person, and she’s friendly, with an infectious smile and a bubbly laugh. She hugs him in greeting. The way she smells turns him on. 

It goes well at first. Over a bottle of wine, they talk about the refugee crisis, the latest episode of the Real Housewives of Insomnia, and her job at a marketing firm. Gladio’s impressed by her range of knowledge. They keep talking, and the bottle of wine turns into another. 

That’s when everything starts to get a bit…fuzzy. They finish the wine and move on to a few rounds of sugary shots, and then she slurs some propositions in his ear. Those filthy words and the smell of her perfume are all the temptation he needs to take her back to his place.

Now she’s riding him, bouncing on his dick and moaning obnoxiously, like an actress in a porno. The bed rocks furiously under him, making his stomach lurch, so he just holds her hips and lets her go at it, closing his eyes and focusing on the rhythmic sound of their skins smacking together. 

A choked “Oh no” is the only warning he gets before she pukes on him. Hot, sour acid splashes over his face and chest, drenching his pillow. The smell of it, and the colour of it—bright purple, like the shots they drank at the bar—make him gag. She retches above him, like she’s not done blowing chunks, but it ain’t enough warning to get out of the line of fire. 

He takes a second volley straight to the face.

Later, after she’s gone and he’s scraping dried vomit out of the cracks between his floorboards, he kicks himself for not staying home tonight with a good book after all.

*

When Gladio closes his locker door in the Crownsguard gym, Ignis is standing on the other side of it, one hand on the dial of his own combination lock. His eyebrow rises as he studies Gladio from head to toe. Gladio doesn’t have to ask why. He already knows he looks like shit—he’s exhausted, his head’s throbbing, and his stomach’s still churning from all that booze. 

“You look like you haven’t slept,” Ignis says.

Gladio grunts and sits heavily on the bench. “Didn’t.”

“Out late, were we?”

“Could say that.” Gladio squints at his boots. Bending down to take them off ain’t gonna be a picnic when the slightest movement sends pain stabbing through his temples. “Met a girl at the bar.”

“Ah.” Ignis opens his locker and tucks his duffel bag inside. “I take it one thing led to another.”

“Drank a whole bottle of wine.” With great effort, Gladio lifts his foot onto his knee and starts to undo the laces of his boots. “Then did about seven shots. Some syrupy purple shit.” He slips his foot free and drops the boot on the floor. “Went back to my place to fuck.” 

“As you do.”

Gladio repeats the process with the other foot. “She threw up in my face.” 

Ignis’s head whirls to look at him, his eyes widening in horror. “She what?”

“Blew chunks on me.” Gladio slips the boot off his other foot. “She was riding me and—” He swallows, remembering the sour smell of it, and how it glued his eyelashes together. “I had to shower, wash the sheets, and clean the floor. It was everywhere.”

Ignis chuckles, though it quickly turns into a cough when Gladio glares at him. “Apologies. I shouldn’t make light of the situation. But you must admit…”

“Don’t even.” Gladio holds up a hand to stop him. “I ain’t ready to laugh about it yet.”

“Of course.” Ignis shrugs off his dress shirt and carefully hangs it in the locker, trading it for his workout tank. “Well, if you’re free Friday night, perhaps I can treat you to some high-quality liquor. Something to wash out the taste of all those cheap shots. There’s a nice bar around the corner from my apartment.”

Gladio groans. The mere thought of alcohol makes his stomach heave. “Dunno if I’m ready for that, Iggy. ‘Sides, I have another date lined up for Friday.”

“I see.” Ignis stows his dress shoes at the bottom of the locker, then closes the door, a strange look flitting across his features before it’s replaced by a polite smile. “Well, perhaps another time, then.”


	2. Weird Trophies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and survived the gross-out chapter! Your feedback means more than you know. ♡

His Friday night date is clean-cut, soft-spoken, and a bit awkward. Gladio likes the look of him—he’s got a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, and there’s a comforting familiarity about the dress shirt and leather jacket he’s wearing—but he knows right away he’s gonna have to steer the conversation. 

Right. Alcohol. That’s what they need.

They go to a bar and order a pitcher of beer, and before long, his date’s tongue starts to loosen. He tells Gladio that he wanted to join the Crownsguard when he was a kid.

“So why didn’t you?” Gladio asks.

The guy shrugs. “Didn’t like the hours. I thought they might cut into my hobby time.”

Hobby time? Gladio can work with that. He asks about it, and the guy whips out his phone to show Gladio pictures of the “masterpieces” he has hanging on his wall.

They’re heads. 

Mesmenir heads. Anak heads. Dualhorn heads. Goddamn, he even has a coeurl head, its face frozen in an eternal snarl. 

“Aren’t they beautiful?” the guy croons.

Actually, they’re creepy, all lined up on his wall like a bunch of morbid effigies, but Gladio has to admit it ain’t the worst taxidermy he’s ever seen. That honour goes to the sabertusk at the Lucian Museum of Natural History that looks like it was preserved by a cartoonist. So he leans back in his chair, taking a big gulp of his beer, prepared to go deeper down this rabbit hole and find out exactly what makes this guy tick. 

But then he keeps talking.

“I killed them all myself,” the guy says, a faraway look coming over his face. “Shot them down in the Leiden wilderness. Pow!” He punches his open palm. “Man versus nature. The neverending struggle. Just me against the beasts, and I conquered them.” 

“Wow,” Gladio says. It’s not like he’s never hunted before, but that was during survival training with Cor. He was taught to kill for food. This guy sounds like he gets off on killing for the sake of it. “That’s…something.”

Gladio’s date seems to snap back to himself then, his mouth splitting into a self-satisfied grin. “You know, sometimes I look into their eyes and see the moments right before they died. That terror. That futile struggle for survival. That need to escape. But they couldn’t escape, and now those moments are mine forever.” He stares straight at Gladio, something like a challenge in those cold blue eyes. “Kinda poetic, isn’t it?”

Gladio doesn’t know what to say about that. The next time the bartender comes around, he declines a second pitcher and asks for his bill.

*

“It wasn’t the _taxidermy_ that weirded me out,” Gladio says, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder as he climbs the Citadel steps with Ignis. “That shit ain’t shocking. I’ve been to the museum before.”

“So I take it he doesn’t preserve the carcasses for educational purposes?”

“Uh, no. Try murder purposes,” Gladio says.

Ignis raises his eyebrows. “Murder purposes?”

“Yeah, he practically sprung a boner crowing about all the animals he’s killed,” Gladio says. “He said something about preserving the moment of their death.”

“Truly?” 

“I wish I was joking. Seriously, you should’ve heard the way he talked about them, like they were his trophies or something. I hauled ass out of there just in case he got the bright idea of sticking my head up on the wall with ‘em.” 

“Well, you certainly are a prize,” Ignis teases as he opens the Citadel door, letting Gladio through before following. “Though I rather doubt your severed, stuffed head would be as charming as the real thing.”

“Hah! I think Iris might disagree. She’s hit that teenage phase where she’s always telling me to shut up.”

They arrive at the security checkpoint. Gladio digs in his duffel bag for his badge. By the time he’s produced it, shown it to the guard, and been waved through, Ignis is already waiting for him on the other side. They resume their walk, heading toward the bank of elevators.

“Where are you finding these people, anyway?” Ignis asks.

Gladio scratches his head. “InsomniaMatch.”

“Well, that explains everything,” Ignis says. “When you scrape the bottom of the barrel, you get the dregs. Isn’t there a better dating service you can use?”

“Unity is too expensive and everyone on Ember just wants to get laid,” Gladio says as they arrive at the elevators. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the occasional hookup, but I’m after something more…”

Ignis hits the call button, then turns back to Gladio, looking up at him expectantly. For a second, Gladio forgets what the hell he was saying. In the glow of the sun lancing through the skylights overhead, Ignis’s eyes are impossibly green. 

“…Permanent,” he finishes, arrested. 

The elevator dings, breaking the moment. The doors open and a woman in a pencil skirt exits, barking orders into her phone. Ignis steps inside and glances at his watch. 

“You have training with Noct in fifteen minutes,” he says. “Don’t be late. I’ll see you at lunch?”

Gladio nods, and the elevator doors slide shut between them.


	3. The Influencer

“Smile!”

Gladio manages a grimace, and his date presses their cheeks together just as her camera phone’s flash goes off. She looks at the picture on the screen, then looks at him, pouting.

“Don’t you have any facial expressions that aren’t grumpy?” she asks. “My followers are going to think you’re a total drag.”

Gladio just shrugs. He doesn’t really wanna make an appearance on her social media, and if that makes him a drag, oh well. Being hauled all over town for photo ops in front of every half-assed landmark in Insomnia ain’t his idea of a good time.

After his near death experience with the taxidermist last night, he was ready to take a break from InsomniaMatch for a while. But then a message from this girl rolled in, and she seemed normal and cute, with dark hair and dark eyes and a smattering of freckles over her nose.

So he took the leap, and landed flat on his face. He knew he was in trouble when she squealed at first sight of him, tottering across the sidewalk in ridiculous heels while screeching, “Oh my gods! Hashtag-so-hot!” She air-kissed his cheeks and squeezed his biceps, and it was the least subtle thing ever. He briefly entertained the idea of faking an emergency call from Iris.

They ended up getting dinner at a noodle hut off Crown Boulevard, and she spent the whole thirty minutes taking photos of her Cygillan crab noodle bowl and asking him which ones had the best lighting. She took a few selfies with him, too. He made sure to cross his eyes and let the noodles hang out of his mouth every time she hit the shutter button.

Now they’re walking down Crown Boulevard, toward the Citadel. She keeps stopping every fifty feet to take a picture of something for her feeds—a statue of King Somnus, someone’s dog, a rainbow-coloured flyer for a charity concert. Gladio endures it quietly. Before long, the Citadel appears ahead of them, looming up against the starlit sky.

“Can we go inside?” she asks, walking backward as she tugs on his hand. “Pretty please?”

“Be my guest. The lobby’s open to the public.”

“No, no.” She stops so abruptly that he nearly walks into her. “I don’t mean the lobby. I mean…” She glances around, then leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “I want to see the king’s chambers. Can you get me in there?”

“Uh. No.”

Even Gladio ain’t allowed in there most of the time. If she thinks he’s gonna put his job, his reputation, and the royal family’s security on the line for her, she’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she says, trailing a finger down his chest in a way that’s probably supposed to be sexy, but just pisses him off more. "I’ll go down on you…while you’re sitting on the throne.”

Gladio recoils. “What? No.”

“We can do more than that,” she says, sidling closer and biting her lower lip. “I’ll let you stick it in.”

All right, that’s enough. Gladio puts his hands on her shoulders and makes her take a step backward, until there’s a respectable arm’s length distance between them. “I think this date’s over.” 

“Oh, come on.” She stamps her foot. “Don’t be such a party pooper.”

He walks her back to the metro station. She sulks the whole way. But hey, he tries to look on the bright side: at least he got a bowl of noodles out of the evening. 

*

**Gladio (12:24 AM):** is there anyone in this city who’s normal?

**Iggy (1:08 AM):** Oh dear. I take it your date didn’t go as planned?

**Iggy (1:08 AM):** And to answer your question, it depends on what you define as normal.

**Gladio (1:10 AM):** i define it as treating me like an actual person and not a photo op or a free ticket into the king’s private chambers.

**Gladio (1:10 AM):** also, not suggesting we fuck on the throne. 😒

**Iggy (1:15 AM):** I suppose I can see why someone might be titillated by such an activity. You know how people are about royalty.

**Gladio (1:16 AM):** like a hundred generations of caelum asses have been farting on that thing. it’s the last place i’d wanna bang.

**Iggy (1:17 AM):** The custodians vacuum it every week.

**Gladio (1:17 AM):** you can’t get rid of two thousand years of farts with a vacuum cleaner, iggy! that shit’s part of the upholstery now. 😫

**Iggy (1:18 AM):** A fair point. I concede to your expertise on the matter.

**Iggy (1:23 AM):** So I take this to mean there won’t be a second date?

**Gladio (1:23 AM):** hell no. 

**Gladio (1:24 AM):** actually, i just downloaded ember. might as well try something different, huh? cause i'm at three strikes on insomniamatch.

**Iggy (1:25 AM):** Weren’t you just saying the other day that people only use Ember to “get laid”? 

**Gladio (1:25 AM):** yeah. but i guess getting laid could lead to something more? maybe? i’ve got nothing to lose. 

**Iggy (1:26 AM):** Except perhaps your sanity and your dignity.

**Gladio (1:27 AM):** i’ve been barfed on, sized up by a serial killer, and treated like arm candy. can’t get any worse.

**Gladio (1:27 AM):** launching ember now. wish me luck!

**Gladio (2:03 AM):** night iggy. 😴


	4. Insomnia Strangler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the updated tags for this chapter! The content may be a little more intense for some than in previous ones. And thank you to everyone who has been reading and continuing to support this fic. I'm amazed at the response! ♡

Ember starts out promisingly enough. He matches almost right away with a redhead whose profile says _librarian by day_ 🤓 | _kinky bitch by night_ 😘.” A book-lover, and a dynamo in the sack? Sounds like his dream woman.

They meet for drinks first, by her request. She says she wants to get to know him a bit before they go back to her place. That’s fine by Gladio. He’s sitting at the bar, working on a dram of whiskey, when she approaches. The first thing he notices is her hot red lipstick. Next, her hair, bouncing in untamed waves around her face. She’s wearing a little black dress that emphasizes her ample bust and curvy hips. 

Gladio’s interested. Real interested.

She slips onto the bar stool next to him and orders a glass of wine. They make small talk at first, chatting about their jobs, the weather, what’s happening in the news. Then they get onto the topic of books.

“I’m really into Sopha’s poetry,” she says, tracing the rim of her wine glass with her index finger. “I took a whole course on it in undergrad, actually. Have you ever read her stuff?”

Gladio’s come across one or two of her sonnets in the Citadel’s library. If he’s remembering right, they’re some of the filthiest verses he’s ever read, and that’s saying something. “She’s the one who managed to make eating grapefruits sound like porn, right?”

She smiles flirtatiously, playing with the black ribbon necklace that hugs her throat. “ _Faerie Fruit_ , yeah. But my favourite is _Dea’s Temptation_. I just love the way she describes sex. It’s subtle enough that it’s not obscene, but you still know exactly what she’s talking about. Sometimes I can’t believe the censors let her publish it.”

“Dunno if I’ve read that one.”

“ _Upon her supine form there came the night?_ ” she says. When he gives her a blank look, she adds, “ _Spilt ‘twixt her lips—a pool of moonlight? Seriously?_ ” He shakes his head, and she laughs. “You have to read it. Go take it out of the library tomorrow. The moonlight is a metaphor for—”

“Semen. Yeah, I got it,” Gladio says with a smirk.

He’s starting to feel a little hot under the collar. Not just because of the poetry, but because she can rattle off the lines like she wrote ‘em herself. So when she trails her fingers over the inside of Gladio’s wrist and says, “Well…should we go back to my place?” he doesn’t need any more convincing.

They walk the three blocks to her apartment. As soon as they’re in the door, she’s pulling off his clothes and shoving him down on the bed and climbing on top of him. He half expects her to bust out some fluffy handcuffs or a ball gag, but she doesn’t. Maybe she’s not that kinky after all.

Within minutes, she blows that assumption out of the water. He’s got his cock inside her and her tits in his hands when she bends down and whispers in his ear, “Can I choke you?” 

Freezing, he lifts his head off the pillow. “Excuse me?”

She nibbles his earlobe, her hands sliding up his chest. “I promise you’ll like it. It’ll make you come so hard.”

Oh no. There goes his boner. All his Crownsguard training rushes into his head, filling it with Cor’s lectures about crushed windpipes and brain damage and imminent death. He’s wired to view choking as deadly, not hot. Besides, even if he wanted to bring that kind of thing into the bedroom, it wouldn’t be with someone he literally just met.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

“We could try something else.” She kisses the side of his neck, but it ain’t enough to get him back in the mood. “You could choke me instead.”

“Okay, stop,” he says, pushing her upright and off of his dick, dumping her on the bed beside him. “I’m not into that.”

She frowns at him. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Hurt flashes across her face before twisting into indignation. She rolls her eyes and shifts over to sit on the edge of the bed, folding her arms across her chest. Gladio gets up, too, scanning the floor for his underwear. There’s no point in sticking around now. It’d be too awkward, and she’s clearly pissed.

“Did you not read my profile?” she says heatedly. "It says ‘kinky.’ Kay-eye-en-kay-why.” She makes a chopping motion into her palm for every letter she enunciates.

“Yeah, but I thought you were gonna spank me a bit and call me names,” he says, snatching his boxer briefs out from under the bed and yanking them on one leg at a time. “Maybe handcuff me to the bed if you wanted to get really wild.”

“Wow. That’s so tired.”

Gladio just shrugs and zips up his jeans. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to choke someone when you don’t know what you’re doing?”

She makes an exasperated sound and flops back on the bed. “You’re a total buzzkill.”

“I’m serious. You could hurt—” 

“Whatever!” She cuts him off, waving him dismissively toward the door. “You’re boring me. Go find someone to have lame missionary sex with.”

That one stings more than he’d care to admit. Gladio grabs his shirt from the kitchen counter on his way out, slamming the door shut behind him. Looks like it’s back to the drawing board.

*

They spend their lunch break together in the Citadel courtyard. Gladio’s sprawled out in the grass, squinting up at the sunlight winking through the canopy of leaves overhead. Ignis sits on the bench next to him, scrolling through his emails with one hand and drinking a coffee with the other.

“I’m not crazy, right?” Gladio says. “When you see ‘kinky’ on a girl’s profile, you don’t expect her to bring up choking?”

“I don’t think it’s that strange,” Ignis says without looking up from his phone. “Provided the brain knows it isn’t dying, a loss of oxygen can cause feelings of lightheadedness and euphoria, which increases the intensity of—”

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thanks, professor, I understand why people do it. I guess I just wasn’t expecting her to pull out the big guns on a first hookup, you know? There’s kinky, then there’s kinky.”

Ignis smirks and brings his coffee cup to his lips. “At least she had the courtesy to ask first.”

A sparrow lands on one of the boughs above. Gladio watches it hop along the branch for a minute before he says, “Do you think I overreacted?”

“Let’s see. You rejected her in the midst of coitus,” Ignis says, counting each item off on his fingers, “lectured her about her sexual predilections, and stormed out of her apartment. I’m sure you can do the math.”

“Shit.” Gladio runs his hands through his hair and blows out a breath. “I’m the weird date in this scenario.”

“You may very well be,” Ignis says cheerfully. “Nevertheless, I understand why you declined the suggestion. I don’t doubt it can be a pleasurable experience, but that sort of intimacy requires trust. It’s unlikely that many people would be willing to put their safety in the hands of someone they just met on Eosweb.”

Gladio glances at Ignis. Hearing him talk about this stuff…well, he’s not sure how it makes him feel. “Yeah, I guess. She seemed to think that made me boring in bed.”

“I'm sure you're very sexually exciting,” Ignis says, which sends a confusing shiver of delight up Gladio's spine. “I do wonder, though…” He finally looks up from his phone. “What exactly were you hoping to get out of the encounter with her? Did her profile description not paint a clear picture of her preferences?”

“Yeah, but I thought she meant kinky in a cute way.” Gladio laces his hands behind his head. “Like, haha, I’m a strait-laced librarian by day, sex kitten by night.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose that’s a lesson learned. Sometimes you can trust what’s on the tin.” Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, tilting his head back to look at the sky instead of Gladio. “Have you considered pursuing more traditional avenues of courtship?”

Gladio snorts. “What, like date someone from work?”

“It’s not unheard of.”

Gladio looks at Ignis, at the way the sunlight brings out glimmers of gold in his hair and the faint stubble on his jaw, and glances away again. “Some guy messaged me on InsomniaMatch. We’re going out tomorrow night.” 

“I see.” With a soft sigh, Ignis tucks his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and rises from the bench. “It seems there may be something of a masochist in you after all.”


	5. Oversized Package

Gladio meets date number five for dinner at a bistro he randomly picked out of the latest issue of _Lucian Cuisinier Quarterly_.

At first sight of him, Gladio starts to think this date might have potential. The guy’s good-looking and well-dressed, in a pair of skinny jeans and a black cowl-neck sweater. He’s clean-shaven, his wavy blond hair styled in an undercut, and a nose ring brings a touch of bad boy to his appearance. 

He’s charming, too. He kisses Gladio’s cheeks one after the other in greeting before they sit down at their table. The real test will be whether he can make decent conversation. After the last few dates, Gladio ain’t interested in a quick lay; he wants to get to know this guy and see if there’s a spark beyond first-glance attraction. 

They order cocktails—an old fashioned for Gladio, a cosmo for his date—and various appetizers. As they eat, Gladio asks his date about himself. The guy explains that he works in HR for the city’s transit board. He has two Duscae terriers (“his babies,” he calls them) and he runs a blog about indie flicks in his spare time. It’s pretty surface level stuff. Gladio’s about to delve deeper when his date cuts him off.

“But enough about me. I want to talk about you.” The guy tongues the straw in his cosmo, smiling lazily as he eyes Gladio up and down from across the table. “I bet you have a huge cock.”

Gladio nearly chokes on his tomato mousse canapé. “Excuse me?”

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say…” The guy purses his lips, sizing him up, as if the breadth of Gladio’s shoulders will tell him anything about the length of his dick. “Nine and three-quarter inches?”

It’s so fucking ridiculous that all Gladio can do is stare at him. For one thing, this guy is being a bit optimistic. For another, this isn’t what Gladio wanted from tonight. He took the time to ask his date about himself, and this is what he gets in return? It’s a kick in the balls. 

His mouth must be gaping like a fish out of water, because the guy reaches out to touch his arm and says, “Oh, come on, don’t be coy. You have to know what people are looking for when they match with you.”

“Dashing good looks, irresistible charm, and a great sense of humour?” Gladio ventures.

“That’s adorable,” his date says, squeezing Gladio’s arm condescendingly. “Don’t get me wrong, those are all bonuses, but from the minute I saw your picture, I knew you’d be packing downstairs. So.” He waggles his eyebrows at Gladio. “When are you going to take me back to your place and wreck me, big boy?”

Gladio bites the inside of his lip to stop himself from laughing in the guy’s face. Who the hell talks like this? Maybe it’s time to put a fork in this date. “Actually, about that…”

  
*

Ignis ducks under Gladio’s right hook. “Big boy? Was he being facetious?”

“No,” Gladio says, deflecting a kick Ignis aims at his gut. “I mean, I don’t think so. I wasn’t gonna sleep with him anyway, but that was the final nail in the coffin.”

“I should imagine so.” 

It’s early, and they have the aerobics room in the Crownsguard gym to themselves. Ignis showed up when Gladio was halfway through his workout and asked if he’d like to spar, and, well, Gladio couldn’t say no. He’s always liked spending time with Ignis, but lately, being near him puts a weird little flutter in Gladio’s belly. 

They trade jabs until they’re both panting and dripping with sweat, and then they break. Ignis moves to the edge of the room, where they left their duffel bags, and retrieves his towel from the bench. He wipes his glistening face with it and takes a long drink from his water bottle. Gladio watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, only averting his eyes when he realizes he’s staring. 

“So how did you extricate yourself from the situation?” Ignis asks.

“I told him I have a micropenis.” A shadow of a frown passes over Ignis’s face, and Gladio hurriedly adds, “I don’t actually have a micropenis. I just wanted to see how he’d react, since he was so convinced it’s massive.”

Ignis nods, slinging the towel around his neck. “And what was his response?”

“He excused himself to go to the bathroom, but never came back. Left me with a bill for ninety-seven crowns.”

“The very nerve.”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Gladio waves a hand dismissively, plopping down on the floor to start his stretches. He tucks one foot in against the opposite thigh and reaches to touch his toes. “It just makes me wonder if that’s all people see when they look at me.”

“You do have a certain aesthetic,” Ignis says as he sits on the bench, “which may contribute to the type of person you attract on these apps.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re handsome and well-built, but rough around the edges,” Ignis says, like that explains anything. When Gladio just stares at him, his cheeks go pink and he makes a vague hand gesture, adding, “You look like you could have anyone you wanted. That might scare the more serious-minded people off from even trying, while the rest will assume you’re only after one thing.” 

Gladio pauses in mid-stretch, absorbing this. “Huh.”

“It’s unfortunate, but dating on Eosweb is necessarily a visual exercise,” Ignis goes on. “In many cases, you’ve already been judged by your appearance before you even have the opportunity to speak to the people you match with.”

“Yeah?” Gladio grins, reconfiguring himself to stretch the other leg. “I didn’t know you were such an expert on this shit. You sure you’ve never dated on Esoweb before, Iggy?”

He’s teasing, but Ignis answers, “I have, once or twice.” 

That sends an unexpected stab of jealousy through Gladio. He looks away, confused, as Ignis begins to pack his towel and water bottle back into his gym bag. It shouldn’t bother him, ‘cause it sounds like it’s all in the past, but…it does.

“Why did you stop?” he finally asks.

Ignis smiles wistfully and shakes his head. “My schedule doesn’t leave much room for courtship, I’m afraid. Not many people have the patience for it.” He checks his phone, then rises from the bench, shrugging his gym bag onto his shoulder. “Speaking of schedules, I have a meeting with the council in fifteen minutes, and I still need to shower. I’d better go.”

“Sure.” Gladio clears his throat. “You, uh…wanna grab dinner after work tonight?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Ignis says distractedly as he types something into his phone. “I’ve just received an invitation to a meeting at four-thirty that I expect will run late.” He looks into the distance, frowning and biting his lip, and Gladio can almost see him reshuffling today’s engagements in his head. “Do you think you’d be able to pick Noct up from school this afternoon?”

“Yeah, no problem. See you, Iggy.”

Ignis thanks him and makes for the locker room. And Gladio watches him go, trying to understand the disappointment sinking like a stone in his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Atropa for inspiring the micropenis exchange. And thank you so much for your kind comments, guys! I'm overwhelmed by the response. ♡


	6. Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO much for tagging along on this story! I'm still overwhelmed by your response. ♡ We're almost at the end now...

Gladio’s date is twenty minutes late. He waits for her at the bar, just like she asked him to, with a lukewarm beer in his hand, occasionally checking the time on his phone. Is he being stood up? After everything he’s been through, it wouldn’t surprise him. Maybe it wouldn’t even bother him. 

It might even be a relief.

He decides to stick around for ten more minutes. While he waits, he observes his surroundings from his bar stool. He wouldn’t have chosen this place for a first meetup; the beers on tap are piss-poor, the butt rock playing over the speakers is too loud, and the clientele is a bit rowdy. It’s not ideal for talking, but his date chose the location. Insisted on it, actually. 

He’s watching some guys play pool and thinking about packing it in when she walks in the door. She’s unmissable—her sequinned miniskirt barely covers her ass, and her tits are practically falling out of the plunging cut of her neckline. Her eyes survey the place, lingering on the bar before they snap to Gladio, and her face breaks into a huge grin. 

“Heyyyyyy! Sorry I’m late.” She saunters over and plonks herself down in his lap, winding her arms around his neck. It’s a bit overkill for their first meeting, and the floral perfume she’s wearing hurts his nostrils, but Gladio doesn’t have the heart to push her away. “I got held up in traffic.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

She smiles, twirling a finger in his hair, but she’s not looking at him anymore. She’s looking behind the bar—maybe checking out the liquor selection? “You’re cuter in person,” she says.

“Uh, thanks.” Her behaviour is weirding him out. “Do you want to order a dr—”

The last of his question is lost when she grabs him by the face and kisses him. He freezes, making a muffled sound of surprise against her lips. It gives her the opening she needs to bring her tongue into it, and as the kiss turns sloppy, he takes her by the shoulders and wrenches their mouths apart. She tries to drag him in for another kiss, but he stands, dumping her out of his lap.

A voice from behind him says, “Hey! What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” 

He turns around, and the bartender sucker punches him right in the face, sending Gladio toppling over the stools and onto the floor. Disoriented, he reaches out for something to steady himself with, but the guy is suddenly on top of him. He grabs Gladio by the collar and slugs him again, snapping his head back against the concrete. A ringing sound fills his ears. There’s shouting all around him. He tastes copper on his lips and distantly realizes his nose is bleeding. 

“That’s my girlfriend, motherfucker!” the bartender screams in his face, showering him with spittle. 

Gladio blinks up at him, seeing double. The guy’s face is twisted in fury, teeth bared, fist raised. Gladio braces himself for a third blow—but before it can land, other patrons grab him and haul him off of Gladio. 

He lies there for thirty seconds until the world stops spinning. Someone offers him a hand, pulls him to his feet. Across the room, his date and the bartender are yelling at each other and gesticulating wildly, but Gladio can’t make out what they’re saying over the general commotion. And anyway, he doesn’t care. He just wants to get the fuck outta here.

Someone gives him ice cubes wrapped in a towel. Gladio takes it, puts it on his face, and dials Ignis’s number on his phone.

*

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“It was no bother.”

They’re in the kitchen at Gladio’s apartment after a five-minute drive from the bar. Gladio’s sitting in a chair next to the sink while Ignis rummages through the contents of his first aid kit. His nose feels three sizes too big for his face, and his right eye is swollen shut. A headache throbs under his skull, deepening with every heartbeat. 

“What happened?” Ignis asks.

“Fuck if I know. I think my date was trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Or maybe he was her ex.” The guy who helped him up off the floor tried to explain the situation while he was waiting for Ignis to arrive, but between the music and the chaos in the bar, that was all Gladio managed to glean. It makes sense, though—how she asked to meet him at that specific location. How she kept looking at the bar behind him, expectantly. That random kiss. “Either way, mission accomplished.”

“I see.” Ignis gently wipes at the crusted blood under Gladio’s nose with a damp facecloth. “I’m surprised a civilian was able to get the better of you.”

Gladio snorts. “Well, I wasn’t expecting it. One minute she was kissing me, the next he had his fist in my face.”

“It sounds like he may have some anger management issues to resolve,” Ignis says. He grasps Gladio’s chin and tilts his face up, taking stock of the damage. “Your nose doesn’t appear to be broken, but we won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down. Are you having any trouble breathing?”

“No,” Gladio says, staring helplessly into Ignis’s eyes. 

“Good.” Ignis gives his upper lip one last dab, then releases him, turning to the sink to rinse out the facecloth. “How about vision problems?”

Gladio shakes his head, wincing when it sends a stab of pain through his skull. “I’m good. Nothing an ice pack won’t fix.”

Without missing a beat, Ignis opens the freezer and gets the ice cubes. He pops a few out of the tray, folds them into the facecloth, and gently lays the compress over Gladio’s bruised eye, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of Gladio’s head. 

“Six dates and they were all disasters,” Gladio grumbles. He can smell the detergent on Ignis’s clothes, and the cedar and orange of his cologne. It’s so comforting that Gladio forgets himself and leans into his body heat, letting his other eye slide shut. “These people are fucking crazy.” 

“And yet you insist on subjecting yourself to them,” Ignis murmurs, his thumb stroking Gladio’s hair ever so slightly. The sensation sends goosebumps shivering down Gladio’s arms. “For what purpose?”

“Dunno. To find someone to love?” he says only half-jokingly.

Ignis chuckles. “Well, you hardly need to turn to Eosweb for that.”

“Maybe not. Think I’m gonna take a break from it for a while.”

“Ah. Does that mean you’re free for dinner Saturday night, then?” Gladio’s eye snaps open again, and he finds Ignis smiling down at him in amusement. Before Gladio can answer, he adds, “And because you’ve been misinterpreting my advances all week, allow me to be crystal clear: I am indeed asking you on a date.”

A giddy, unexpected warmth bubbles up in Gladio’s chest. “Are you serious?”

“Quite.”

“With this shiner?” Gladio says, gesturing at his face.

Ignis’s smile turns fond. “Well, if you hadn’t been so oblivious, you might have avoided tonight’s unpleasantness.” 

Gladio splutters. “I tried to ask you out the other day!”  
  
“Oh, was that what you were doing? I thought you were looking for another opportunity to regale me with your misadventures on InsomniaMatch.”

“Well, if you didn’t like me talking about ‘em, you should’ve said so.”

“On the contrary, I’ve found them quite informative. I can now confidently assure you I won’t vomit on you, treat you like an accessory, ask you inappropriate questions about your body, or get you beaten up, among other things.” Ignis removes the compress from his face and looks him square in the eye. “So, may I have your answer? Will you join me for dinner?”

Gladio smiles softly up at him. This fluttering in his stomach is a brand new feeling, one he never felt with any of his dates from Eosweb. And he wants to see where it takes him. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re on, Iggy.”


	7. The Right One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's been following this story! I started writing it because I wanted to put Gladio in awkward dating situations, and I never imagined so many of you would also be interested. Your support and kind words mean everything to me. ♡
> 
> This chapter is less funny, more fluffy, but I hope it concludes this story on a satisfying note. Enjoy!

Ignis is waiting for him when he steps into the restaurant. 

He’s sitting at a table by the window, looking down at his phone, his face soft in the glow of the tea light on the table. The sight of him makes Gladio smile. Knowing Ignis, he’s probably been here for twenty minutes already. He hates being late.

Gladio nervously tugs on the hem of his shirt and makes his way over. Ignis looks up as he approaches, an answering smile gracing his features. His unstyled hair falls across his forehead, and he’s wearing a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. Casual, but classy. He’s the most attractive thing Gladio’s ever seen.

“You been here long?” Gladio asks as he takes a seat across from him.

“Just a few minutes,” Ignis says. He places his phone face down on the table—a signal that Gladio has his full attention now. “You didn’t have too much trouble finding the place?”

“Nah.”

Gladio glances around the restaurant. It’s fancier than anything he’d choose on his own—the tables are draped with white linens, the wait staff are wearing dress pants and bowties, and Gladio has no idea how to pronounce half the dishes on the menu. Normally, this kind of place would intimidate him, but it doesn’t tonight, because it means Ignis is taking this thing seriously. 

“This is for you,” Ignis says.

He’s holding out a single red rose. Gladio didn’t notice it on the table when he arrived. He laughs and accepts it, bringing it to his nose to smell its delicate fragrance. 

“Shit, Iggy, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” Gladio says.

Ignis smiles. “I suppose I’m full of surprises.”

Gladio looks at him, and for the first time in all the years he’s known Ignis, he’s at a loss for what to say. They’ve been colleagues and friends for as long as he can remember, but this is uncharted territory. Gladio doesn’t have a map to show him how to navigate this conversation, or cross the ocean between friendship and something more.

“You’re frowning,” Ignis says. “Was the rose too much?”

Gladio shakes his head, laying the flower on the table beside his fork. “Nah, I like it. Guess I’m just curious what other surprises you have in store for me.”

“Well,” Ignis says, picking up his menu, “let’s order some food, and then perhaps we can discover some of them together.”

Time seems to dissolve from that point on. They don’t talk about Noct or the Crownsguard, or Ignis’s gripes with the council. They don’t discuss the news or the refugee crisis beyond the Wall. Ignis doesn’t ask him about the size of his cock, either, or make weird sexual innuendoes. 

Instead, he tells Gladio he’s been watching a web series about car maintenance and growing an herb garden on his balcony. He listens intently when Gladio talks about the plot of the short story he’s trying to write, and his recent forays into meditation. They catch each other up on their families—how Ignis’s uncle adopted a stray cat that’s been hanging around his porch, and how Gladio finally gave in to Iris’s pleas to let her paint his toenails.

“Oh?” Ignis asks when he’s done telling that particular story. “What colour did she choose?”

“Hot pink,” Gladio says. “I actually kinda like it.”

By the time they’re done, they’ve gone through two bottles of white wine and it’s pushing eleven o’clock. Gladio tries to ask for his half of the bill, but Ignis ain’t having it. He pays for the whole meal, and waves away the cash Gladio tries to hand him, impatience warring with amusement on his face. 

They walk back to Ignis’s apartment together, bumping shoulders the whole way. Gladio’s too nervous to take his hand. He doesn’t wanna make the wrong move and blow his chances, not after a solid week and a half of fuckups. Not when it’s Ignis by his side instead of some random stranger from Eosweb.

The last time he had this much to drink, he went to bed with his date. But he ain’t sure he wants to do that with Ignis tonight, assuming Ignis even asks. ‘Cause this is more important than a hookup. They should take their time with it—with each other. 

“Would you like to come upstairs for a nightcap?” Ignis asks when they arrive outside his apartment building, pushing his glasses up his nose as he turns to look at Gladio. “For a drink or…something more, if you wish.”

It’s a tempting thought. The image of them tangled in each other’s arms and making out on Ignis’s couch puts a shiver of anticipation down Gladio’s spine, and knowing Ignis wants it too makes it all the harder to resist, but…

“Not tonight,” he says. “I wanna hold on to this feeling a little longer.”

“Oh?” Ignis murmurs. His eyes are wide and questioning as he looks up at Gladio. “What feeling is that?”

Gladio smiles and gently takes Ignis’s hand, raising it to kiss his palm. “The butterflies.”

An answering smile curves Ignis’s lips. He cups the back of Gladio’s head and gets up on the tips of his toes, pressing a soft kiss to Gladio’s mouth. It’s quick and chaste, but that’s all it takes to get Gladio’s heart pounding, his body going light with a heady pleasure. 

That’s all it takes to tell him the spark between them is real.

*

The buoyant, giddy feeling follows him home. As soon as he’s in the door, he puts his rose in a glass of water, then flops down on his bed and pulls out his phone. It’s crazy. They’ve only been apart for twenty minutes and Gladio’s already craving his company again. He navigates to his texts with Ignis and types out a message. 

**Gladio (11:22 PM):** i had a good time tonight. when’s date number two? 😇

**Iggy (11:33 PM):** So did I. It felt like one hour, not four.

**Iggy (11:34 PM):** I’m free after nine tomorrow evening, if that’s not too late for you.

**Gladio (11:35 PM):** hell no. i don’t need sleep. i just need you. 😎

**Iggy (11:35 PM):** You are incorrigible.

**Gladio (11:35 PM):** yeah, but you like it.

**Iggy (11:36 PM):** I’ll neither confirm nor deny your hypothesis.

**Gladio (11:36 PM):** yeah, yeah. you can’t hide behind big words.

**Iggy (11:36 PM):** 🤓

**Iggy (11:36 PM):** Shall I pick you up at your place? I thought we might go to the New Moon festival down by the quay.

**Gladio (11:37 PM):** sounds romantic! locking it in.

**Iggy (11:37 PM):** Then it’s settled. 

**Gladio (11:37 PM):** 🎉🎉🎉

**Gladio (11:37 PM):** night, iggy. already can’t wait to see you again.

**Iggy (11:38 PM):** Nor I. Sweet dreams, Gladio. 🙂 


End file.
